"If you please," Adah said timidly, bending over the sweet face resting
on the pillow, "if you please, may I say the 'Lord's Prayer' here with
you?"
Anna answered by grasping Adah's hand, and whispering to her: "Yes, say it, do."
Then Adah knelt beside her, and Anna's fair hand rested as if in
blessing on her head as they said together, "Our Father."
Adah's sleep was sweet that night in her little room at Terrace
Hill--sweet, not because she knew whose home it was, nor yet because
only the previous night he had tossed wearily upon the self-same pillow
where she was resting so quietly, but because of a heart at peace with
God, a feeling that she had at last found a haven of shelter for herself
and her child, a home with Anna Richards, whose low breathings could be
distinctly heard, and who once as the night wore on moaned so loudly in
her sleep that it awakened Adah, and brought her to the bedside. But
Anna was only dreaming and Adah heard her murmur the name of Charlie.
"I will not awaken her," she said, and gliding back to her own room, she
wondered who was Anna's Charlie, associating him somehow with the letter
she had given, into the care of Mrs. Richards.